


In Sickness

by Snowy38



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Flu, Fluff, M/M, Short Story, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy38/pseuds/Snowy38
Summary: "Um."Harry shuffled up the tiny aisle and hovered next to the guy hogging the space.He actually looked up and Harry looked down into dull blue eyes ringed with tiredness and the red sign of illness."Where am I?" The guy asked, licking his dry thin lips.Harry wanted to rewrap his duvet burrito and carry him home.





	In Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All
> 
> Fair warning, this is pretty unfinished but it was too cute not to post. I am posting 'The Bachelor' next so this is just a stopover ;)
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> Ang

 

Harry was full of man flu and all he wanted was to bundle himself up - despite his rather sweaty fever - and run to the corner shop before anybody he actually knew saw him.

           

What he found there was...well he wasn't not entirely sure. Either Cocoon the movie was being re-enacted or-

 

Or somebody really did leave their house wrapped in their duvet. With their hair standing up in four different directions.

 

The guy- kind of short, with conker brown hair- was hogging the first aid section see. And Harry needed drugs and a lot of them.

 

A big palm lifted to splay against his brick red bobble hat in belated regret. His hair was only marginally worse than this hat. Not to mention the bloody ugly duffle coat he shrugged on and the beige uggs with pseudo laces.

 

Fuck... why was he wearing girl's boots when possibly the cutest (and strangest) guy Harry had ever seen was in his shop?

 

"Um."

 

He shuffled up the tiny aisle and hovered next to the guy hogging the space.

 

He actually looked up and Harry looked down into dull blue eyes ringed with tiredness and the red sign of illness.

 

"Where am I?" The guy asked, licking his dry thin lips.

 

Harry wanted to rewrap his duvet burrito and carry him home.

 

"The shop?" Harry asked. Stupidly. He was supposed to be answering the question not asking more.

 

The guy frowned.

 

"I'm not well."

 

Harry nodded, his throat clicking as his bunged up nose blocked any air moving in and out of his nostrils. His throat felt weird and everything tasted strange.

 

"Do you need emergency medical care?" Harry asked anyway.

 

The small guy scoffed at him rolling his eyes.

 

"Pretty sure I just need paracetamol..."

 

"You didn't know where you were a minute ago..." he pointed out helpfully.

 

The man's blue grey eyes shifted over him while a brow of his arched.

 

"You don't look much better off, to be honest."

 

Harry pressed his lips together and then released a sigh.

 

"Feel worse than I look, so if you can speed up the selection process I'm just going to take a pack full of pills and go to sleep..."

 

The man's eyes widened and he turned toward Harry clutching his duvet tightly as he twisted.

 

"It's not that bad is it, mate? I mean don't think you have no way out. I can help you if you like, I-"

 

"I'm not about to kill myself," Harry mused lowly coughing into a gloved hand.

 

The man blinked, his cheeks blooming.

 

"You made it sound like-"

 

"Sorry," Harry offered quickly squirming.

 

The guy shifted a couple of feet to the left allowing Harry minimal access to the shelf. His chest brushed the overwhelming mound of duvet thanks to the small space.

 

He picked out two packets of Beecham Flu Plus, some lozenges, cough medicine and a tub of Vicks.

 

"Careful you don't leave that on your hand," Duvet guy hummed.

 

His voice was husky with cold but kind of cute somehow.

 

"Oh yeah?" Harry frowned thinking of possible scenarios where he'd leave Vicks vapour rub on his hand and what possible damage it could do.

 

"Burns," the brunette shared. "You know," he added to Harry's clueless face.

 

 _No, he didn't know_.

 

"What-"

 

"Your dick," Louis mumbled. "You know if you go for a stroke and-"

 

Harry's mortified face must have stopped the other man mid-thought.  He ducked his scorching cheeks and smirked bitterly at the contents of the shelf.

 

Harry found himself warming up from the inside with an inexplicable heat that just wanted to burst out of him. He didn't fully realise he was grinning like an absolute loon until Duvet guy started to stare. 

 

"I'm Harry," he said then, still smiling.

 

"Louis," he replied as he unravelled his duvet to poke out a small arm.

 

Harry caught a glimpse of his grey sweatpants and a baggy knitted jumper that dipped to reveal the hollows above his collar bones. Harry licked his lips.

 

"You should uh...come for a Lemsip," Harry said then, feeling completely delirious.

 

The look Louis gave him told him he probably was.

 

"Eh, no thanks mate," Louis said whilst reaching to grab several remedies for himself, struggling to keep his duvet tight around him and when he turned for the till, his feet tangled around the loose end of the duvet, sending him stumbling.

 

Harry moved quickly and hooked both arms under his ribs to keep him upright. Louis looked like a particularly ruffled angry bird.

 

"Thank you Harold, I do believe I can stand by myself without your assistance..."

 

Even the young girl at the cash desk snorted.

 

Harry smiled benignly, letting Louis pay first. He paid for his own items and slipped outside; assuming Louis was long gone.

 

Louis was stood at the pedestrian crossing, turning to all three directions repetitively, a frown marring his handsome features.

 

Despite his long messy hair and day old scruff, he took Harry's breath away.

 

"Do you need a taxi?" He asked as he approached slowly.

 

Wide panicked eyes met Harry's.

 

"I don't know where I live..."

 

"Mobile?" Harry waggled his phone to animate his question.

 

Louis shook his head sadly.

 

Harry reached out and pressed the backs of his fingers to Louis' forehead.

 

"You're burning up," he winced. "We need to get that fever down, I'm sure you'll remember once you feel better..."

 

Louis reached into his bag and swallowed some pills with water Harry ran back in the shop to buy.

 

"How long will it take?" He wondered.

 

Harry shrugged. It was already dark and chilly outside. He didn't relish the idea of sitting with Louis on a park bench until he remembered. But he refused to invite him for a drink again, now painfully aware of how insane that was.

 

Louis though, was hedging looks his way.

 

"Hey um...that offer you made...about going for a hot drink..."

 

Harry had no idea why his dick twitched. He might be polite and friendly to suffering fellow humans and sure he liked taking care of people but-

 

He didn't even know Louis. He didn't know anything about him. He could be a thief or a serial killer for all he knew. Still. He didn't seem like much of a killer wrapped in a duvet with fluffy fingered through hair and a soft uncovered yawn slurping from his lips.

 

"The offer is still open," Harry assured.

 

Louis coughed, hitching up his duvet a bit.

 

"I might be able to make it after all," he smiled the littlest bit; sweetly like he needed to charm his way out of trouble.

 

Harry thought he'd just fallen in love.

 

//

 

Harry spat out the mouthful of hot chocolate he'd just sipped.

 

Something rich and tangy coated the back of his tongue, a flavour he hadn't expected.

 

Louis was staring at him under dark lashes with an unimpressed twist of his lips, the duvet now hanging softly over his shoulders as he settled into the sofa at the coffee-shop.

 

"Jesus, make it more obvious," Louis murmured, clearing the phlegm that had gathered at the back of his throat from sipping his hot drink.

 

Harry wiped his mouth with a bit of heat in his cheeks.

 

"You didn't tell me you'd laced it," he grumbled with a frown that creased the skin on his forehead. He gently swiped his red beanie away, tangling a hand into his hair to tame it.

 

Louis' sharp blue eyes followed the movement, his eyelids flicking down and swooping thick dark lashes against his cheeks.

 

"Thought a little whiskey might kill or cure," Louis excused the alcoholic addition to their drinks.

 

Harry blinked, clearing his own throat of bitter after taste.

 

"Kill," Harry said with a brow-arch. He picked up the cup and carefully sipped at the rest of the drink.

 

Louis smirked, leaning back in the sofa and tugging on the ends of the duvet that draped over his shoulders like some kind of white cape.

 

"Thought it might kick-start my brain," Louis added then.

 

Harry nodded, biting gently at his bottom lip, his big green eyes meeting Louis' red rimmed ones. He pushed his knuckle over the tip of his nose, sniffling a bit.

 

"You could always come back to mine," he threw out casually. "Like, if you know...you were really desperate," he added quickly.

 

He frowned realising he was sounding more and more ridiculous by the second.

 

"I mean-of c-of course you have your own friends who would take care of you but if you, you know, forget where they live too then-" Harry swallowed, rubbing a palm across his own sweaty forehead. He reached into his plastic bag from the corner shop to pull out the painkillers and popped two, swallowing them with the alcohol-laced chocolate drink.

 

Louis leaned forward, twisting his lips in trying to curb his smile, but the sparkle in his eyes clued Harry off right away.

 

"You sure I'm the sick one?" He asked Harry.

 

Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes and flopping back in his chair with a huff. He'd rid his duffle leaving him in his usual skinny black jeans and a long sleeve grey top.

 

"Anyway," Louis carried on talking, licking the sweet sticky substance from around his lips. "How do you manage to look so glamorous in the middle of flu?" He asked. "Most of us look like shit and then there's you; floating around looking..." Louis paused, squinting a bit.

 

Harry looked over, reaching for his drink and resting it on his chest when he leaned back again.

 

"Looking what?" Harry asked, his chin doubling as he stared at the top of his drink.

 

Louis blinked so slowly, Harry likened the dip and lift of his lashes to the beat of a butterfly's wings. His lips perked just the tiniest bit in the corners.

 

"You know what," he said, his voice warm under the roughness caused by his  sore throat.  "You know exactly what you look like, don't try and milk more compliments out of me..."

 

Harry lifted his eyes, leaving his chin dipped.

 

"I don't actually get that many compliments," Harry admitted gently, lifting up his hat. "I wear stupid hats, my hair's too long and-"

 

Louis scoffed in the middle of his defence.

 

"And what, Harold?" He challenged.

 

"And my lips get chapped," he added stupidly, biting off some of the dry skin that had formed on the cupid's bow of his lips from blowing his nose so much. The tissues had dried it out along with the skin around his nostrils. Everything stung when his nose started dripping again but somehow his nose was still blocked solid.

 

He huffed and it clouded into a chesty cough, forcing him to sit up and place his drink back on the table. He glanced at his new friend.

 

"Remember where you live yet?" He asked to break the weirdness.

 

Louis laughed out a loud 'hah!' and barked his own coughing fit for a moment.

 

"Really, you have chapped lips?" He said despite Harry's attempt to change the subject. "That's the worse you can come up with as a put-off. You're seriously trying to tell me that people turn you down because your lips are a bit dry?"

 

Harry licked said lips, venturing a startled but cautious look to Louis. He'd said people. Not girls. Had he guessed? Had he instantly seen through Harry's flimsy excuses to get to know him and recognised Harry's initial attraction to him?

 

"Actually one guy did," he confirmed Louis' silent question, flicking his eyes away and downwards sadly. "I get psoriasis," Harry added with a heavy blush. "It can get pretty ugly, it's-I can't help it and stress makes it worse so when he-"

 

Harry gulped, realising his words were getting away with him, his tongue rolling freely in his mouth. He swallowed it down and bit into it to keep it still.

 

Louis was nodding slightly, biting at his own lips, the upper one thin and the lower one full. Harry couldn't look at him, though and found himself staring out of the window wilfully. He was certain Louis would never want to see him again after this.

 

"Well nobody's perfect," Louis cleared his throat again. "I bet this guy you're talking about had his flaws..."

 

That caused Harry to roll his eyes and huff out an amused breath. He was trying not to let the tears straining at the back of his eyes fall. It was stupid of him to be so hugely relieved at Louis' reaction to his awkwardness.

 

But sometimes people weren't so kind...or so understanding. Sometimes people didn't give him that chance.

 

"He had plenty of flaws," Harry offered on an acid throat, his voice coming out thickly.

 

Louis leaned forward in his seat, reaching for Harry and clasping his wrist gently.

 

"You can tell me about it if you'd like..."

 

Harry shook his head shortly with a bitter press of his lips.

 

"Not much to tell. Let's just say we weren't compatible in the bedroom and leave it at that," he added ruefully.

 

Louis' curiosity was piqued but he chose to let it go this time because Harry already looked like a cornered animal and something felt fuzzy in Louis' chest. Something he wanted to keep.

 

"So," Louis smacked his lips together and shunted his hips forward a bit. "We should get out of here, we both need some sleep..."

 

Harry's brows lifted, his eyes wide and searching for something in Louis'. Louis smiled at him.

 

"I still can't remember where I live though," he said with an impish grin.

 

Harry felt a fluttery feeling swirl in his belly.

 

"No?" He asked, his voice deep with an emotion he didn't want to pinpoint.

 

Louis met his gaze, his eyes crinkling with his outrageous grin.

 

"Nope...something about cute boys in skinny jeans with stupid hats got me all confused," he teased, pursing his lips.

 

Harry tried to fight his own smile and failed spectacularly, his cheek dimples creasing his face and changing his handsomeness into something else entirely.

 

"Shut up," he forced out on a sore throat.

 

"A cute guy who has no idea how cute he is," Louis added afterwards softly. "You're not going to murder me when we get back to yours are you?"

 

Harry stood up, all long legs and dimples and a mane of hair he hid under an ugly red hat.

 

Louis stood too and felt like a dwarf in front of him.

 

Harry shook his head 'no' to Louis' question about murdering him.

 

"I might look after you, though," he warned.

 

Louis flicked him a confused look as he followed Harry out.

 

//

 

"Don't tell me the prick didn't like being domesticated, either?" Louis wandered into Harry's house like he owned it and wriggled his butt back into the sofa, slipping off his shoes and curling his feet up beside him.

 

Harry watched him with a bemused smirk, hanging his coat and heading to the kitchen to make two rounds of Lemsip.

 

"He said I smothered him. Said he didn't want a wife, he wanted a husband. He ended up marrying a marine..."

 

Louis listened to Harry's voice carrying through the house, letting his eyes cast over the room. It screamed home at him even though it wasn't his house. The wallpaper was a green and blossom print, muted like the green and pale burgundy cushions on the cream sofa. The fireplace was exposed brick, warm and welcoming with an electric fire stashed in it with fake flames. The TV was big, mounted above the fireplace but it didn't seem gaudy in the room. The plush, thick moss green curtains and tiffany lamps gave the room a touch of glamour, somehow.

 

There was a bookshelf heavy with paperbacks, too. A reading chair in the corner with it's own backlight. Louis smiled to himself, then remembered Harry's words as he shuffled through with two cups, setting them gently on the wooden coffee table, biting his lip as he considered where to sit himself.

 

"Here," Louis patted the middle cushion on the sofa. "I want to know more about this creep you dated..."

 

Harry stiffened a bit and Louis wanted to reach out again but they barely knew one another. It was inappropriate and weird. He reached for his mug to cradle his hands around it, giving his hands something to do other than touching Harry.

 

"You really don't," Harry said. "I didn't even meant to bring it up, it's just-"

 

"You're a bit down because you're ill," Louis nodded in understanding. He tucked his feet up against Harry's warm thigh.

 

Harry didn't even flinch, to his credit, too busy using his big hands to wipe over his face, casting his hat off once more.

 

"I, for one," Louis divulged. "Always hate myself when I'm sick. Remember every little shitty thing about myself until I convince myself I'm unlovable."

 

Harry reached for his drink, leaning back into the seat carefully avoiding looking at Louis, still.

 

"Yeah?" He ventured as innocently as he could manage.

 

"Yep." Louis nodded. "I've been single for a while now and I can't say my past relationships have ended too well either so it makes me wonder if I'm the problem, you know? Maybe it's all me and not them at all..."

 

"Yeah!" Harry agreed, twisting slightly and sipping his hot drink with a slurp. "Like you get paranoid about everything. like what if you say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and you thought things were going okay but then there's this deal-breaker you don't even know about! Like being wifey...or having bad skin...or just-"

 

Harry stopped himself again just in time.

 

Or just not wanting to be fucked so hard all the time.

 

He winced in memory of Callum's heavy thrusts, his lack of sensuality and the unforgiving stance he had about Harry's feminine side.

 

Something cold was nudging under his thigh. He glanced at Louis and found a sweetly innocent smile on his lips. And Louis' freezing cold toes jammed under his thigh.

 

"We getting in a bit of TV then, Harold?" He changed the subject without Harry needing to.

 

Harry nodded and reached for the control, flicking through the selection until they settled on Diagnosis: Murder.

 

Harry felt his lids getting heavy and tried to blink away the tiredness, lulled by the quiet voices from the screen and a light breathing noise next to him. His head weighed a ton though and he couldn't fight the darkness behind his eyes. It wouldn't hurt to shut his eyes for five minutes. He was sure Louis would wake him if he needed anything.

 

His mug magically lifted out of his hand to place itself on the table and his arm looped itself around a pair of legs before his head rolled back and dry peals of snoring dragged from his throat.

 

Louis watched Harry fall asleep snoring with a fond smile on his face. He could literally rob Harry blind right now but the guy was too cute to even try messing with. He slipped his feet in between Harry's thighs and tucked himself into the space left on the sofa, draping his duvet over them both.

 

//

 

Harry woke with a startled snort, his restricted breathing making him feel like he was drowning and causing him to wake sharply with a pounding heart.

 

He shuffled his legs to get semblance of where he was but a heavy weight bore down on his thighs and it took several minutes of blinking to realise he was in his living room, on the sofa. With Louis.

 

With...Louis.

 

He stared down at the curled form of his new friend seeing how Louis had folded his arms and turned on his side to face the back of the sofa, the gentle weight of his curvy legs laying in Harry's lap, slightly scattered but somehow fitting the shape of Harry's body perfectly.

 

His groin was more interested in that development than it had any right to be and his skin felt hot and damp with sweat where their skin met; both of them running a fever. He curled a hand gently around Louis' knee, rubbing a thumb against the delicate boniness he found there.

 

"Louis?" He hummed, his voice husked and thick with phlegm. He cleared his throat. "Louis...?"

 

Louis hummed tiredly, settling into a deeper curl, his body nearly foetal as he hugged Harry's thigh with his legs.

 

Louis began muttering non-sensical things which just made Harry want to close his eyes and go back to sleep but it was already dark outside and Louis probably wanted to go home.

 

"Louis...It's Harry," he gently pushed his fingers through Louis' messy fringe. "Louis, it's late, do you want to go home?"

 

Harry waited for a minute before sighing in defeat and sinking back into the sofa. He was fully convinced Louis was dead to the world when his voice- soft and rough- curled out, almost scaring him to death.

 

"I am home," Louis stated.

 

"Are you asleep?" Harry asked, peering at him. "You say the weirdest things in your sleep..."

 

Louis shook his head, rubbing his cheek into the sofa cushion.

 

"No. I'm staying here, I've decided. You can't get rid of me now."

 

Harry let his thumb brush over Louis' knee again, his fingers curling into the back of it slightly, He reached up to brush Louis fringe back once more, letting his hand resettle in its original place.

 

Louis sighed softly.

 

"What about my smothering?" Harry enquired lightly, amusement brightening his eyes.

 

Louis was so beautiful and soft like this. Harry felt like he'd found treasure in getting to know this about Louis so soon after meeting him.

 

Louis shrugged.

 

"I like intense," he assured.

 

Harry smiled a bit. He daren't ask how Louis felt about kissing him, it wasn't even something they'd entertained yet. Harry wondered if they might, since the progress of their relationship so far was greatly advanced.

 

"And my scales?" He posed next about his dry skin; keeping things platonic just in case.

 

"I have smelly feet," Louis said in return.

 

Harry already knew that. He'd not missed the slightly bitter foot-sweat smell from having Louis' tiny feet burrowed in his lap.

 

"You do," he acknowledged. "Are we agreed then, that's a trade off?"

 

Louis hummed with another sleepy nod. He took this opportunity to slit his eyes open, twisting his head enough to glance at Harry.

 

"What else didn't the dickhead like?" He asked.

 

Harry swallowed hard.

 

"More like what I didn't like," he ventured.

 

Louis smiled and twisted his body like a cat, stretching and purring from his clogged chest. Harry put a gentle hand on his belly, rubbing it up and down before realising what he was doing only by then it was too late to snatch his hand away for fear of making it obvious so he sat there mortified, waiting for Louis to say something.

 

"And what didn't you like Harold?" Louis asked, his voice a bit deeper this time.

 

Harry felt stupid for even mentioning the dick he'd dated previously but Louis' demolishment of Callum's criticisms was an addictive draw. He should really know Louis a lot better before he started talking about their sex life but somehow Louis made him feel comfortable to say anything that was on his mind and it was a strange feeling but a powerful one all the same.

 

"I didn't like the way he fucked me," he finally murmured, looking anywhere but at Louis as his cheeks flamed.

 

Louis had come to rest on his back, hands linked and resting on his sternum, just above where Harry's hand was  embarrassingly stranded. Louis didn't seem to mind the slightly claiming gesture, his blue eyes cloudy with sleep as he blinked at him, thin lips pressing together and releasing as he thought of his response.

 

Harry slipped his hand away and felt Louis sigh.

 

"The guy had to be an idiot," Louis finally said quietly, scraping his teeth against his lower lip.

 

Harry managed a weak smile.

 

"Yeah. Like I said, we just didn't want the same things..."

 

"What did you want?" Louis tilted his head, curiosity filling him once more.

 

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed down the numb feeling in his mouth from the cold he was suffering. He knocked his head back again, letting out a breath.

 

"Soft...I wanted it gentle, you know? I wanted-"

 

Louis hummed, reaching to tangle fingers carefully into Harry's hair at his neck, half-massaging his skin comfortingly.

 

"I wanted him to make love to me," he described.

 

"And he didn't?" Harry could almost hear Louis' frown.

 

He shook his head.

 

"It was always so hard with him...unrelenting," he added. "It wasn't nice, it-"

 

"It hurt," Louis guessed the missing word, opening one eye to check Harry's face. His whole body was rigid despite the casual drape of his head backwards. His face was caught in a tight frown in remembrance of the brutal sex it sounded like his ex-partner had delivered.

 

When Harry began to turn his face towards Louis, Louis quickly shut his eyes.

 

"Yeah," Harry's voice sounded contorted, somehow. Pained.

 

Louis let his fingers soothe Harry, stroking through his hair tenderly.

 

"Sounds like today is your lucky day," Louis broached then, opening his eyes.

 

Harry's were soft and dark on him, almost disbelieving that Louis was still laying there half in his lap.

 

"Why's that?" Harry wondered.

 

Louis smirked, just the smallest bit.

 

"Well you know, I'm a guy who's very fond of being molly-coddled and who just so happens to-well, you know," Louis cleared his throat and his cheeks tinted pink. He rolled his eyes. "Who just happens to like making love," he selected his phrasing carefully. "And here you are being my perfect match..."

 

Harry thought about his words for a full minute.

 

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," he decided,  taking his warm hands off Louis' legs and tugging his hair out of Louis hands.

 

He got up and disappeared into what Louis could only assume was the bathroom, unsure of what to do next … so he decided that wrapping himself up in his duvet and slipping his shoes on was the best course of action. He refused to leave without having a proper goodbye and Harry had to come out eventually.

 

He waited for half an hour and sat back on the sofa.

 

//

 

Louis woke up feeling icky, drenched in his own (smelly) sweat and aching all over.

 

"Fuck," he whispered weakly as he tried to turn to roll himself toward the edge of the bed.

 

The bed.

 

He blinked, frowning.

 

"Take these," a deep voice told him, holding two tablets expectantly towards his lips. Louis tried to twist back the other way to sit up to drink them down. "It's okay, I have a straw for you," the voice added.

 

Louis decided it must be an angel, saving his life.

 

"Don't," he swallowed the pills with a wince and a shudder. "Don't come near," he whispered, shivering even though he burned up.

 

"Shh," the voice was accompanied by cool, gentle fingers brushing back his fringe.

 

He let the touch soothe him back to sleep.

 

//

 

When Louis woke again, he could open his eyes and turn without feeling like he'd died.

 

He was still in his grotty sweats and jumper but it filled him with a sense of relief to know that he'd been right to trust Harry. He hadn't tried to undress him while he was unconscious.

 

"I made some soup," his voice was close by again.

 

Louis' eyes skipped around the room until they found him, curled into a chair with a book.

 

"I need to shower," Louis stated.

 

Harry put his book down with a pout.

 

"You've only just broken your fever, Louis, You shouldn't risk getting a chill..."

 

"I feel like a slab of lard," he complained, running fingers through his grimy hair.

 

Harry slowly unfolded himself to his full height.

 

"Alright I'll go and put the bathroom heater on and warm up the towels," he compromised.

 

Louis worked on getting upright and sucking down some juice to wet his mouth.

 

Harry gave him a pair of his sweats and a hoodie as he shuffled into the bathroom, nodding when Harry asked him if he was hungry. Louis didn't even know what time it was anymore and actually...was he living with Harry now?

 

Fresh from his shower, Harry forced him to dry his hair before eating, only then serving Louis what worked out to be his lunch.

 

"I can drive you home after," Harry said. "If you want," he added quietly afterwards like he was scared to ask Louis to stay.

 

Louis slurped up his soup.

 

"If you can erase the image of me at my sickest, maybe I can take you out for dinner on Friday night as a thank you," Louis suggested.

 

Harry smiled, a happy glow filling his face.

 

"Okay," he agreed shyly. "I'd like that."

 

"Good," Louis nodded, tapping his finger against the table quickly. "Can you write your number down for me?" He asked. "To, uh...finalise the plans?"

 

Harry wrote down the number and Louis slipped it into his trouser pocket.

 

"I'll wash your clothes and bring them Friday," Harry promised once Louis had finished his soup and asked after his apparel.

 

"Ok," Louis nodded, biting his lip at the feel of Harry's sweat pants rolled up around his ankles as the elegantly tall man hovered at the kitchen table awkwardly for a moment.

 

"I-uh...Shall we go then?" He suggested.

 

Louis gathered his medicines and shoes, skimming a hand through his now flyaway hair, puffing the fringe delicately out of his eyes as he strapped himself into Harry's range rover.

 

The weird thing was- the achingly sweet thing- Harry insisted on walking Louis right to his apartment door. Louis turned, twisting his lips before making the final decision to hug Harry, his duvet now tied around his waist and trailing sadly at his feet.

 

It needed a bloody good wash and when he got inside he'd set about it.

 

"Thanks," he said genuinely, feeling Harry's strong arms pulling him in, his hands gliding over his back and rubbing there lovingly. He hummed at the feeling.

 

"No, thank you," Harry whispered in his ear and Louis knew what it was for but he didn't want to make Harry self conscious about talking about his ex so he just smiled as he pulled away.

 

"I'll text you tomorrow about Friday," he promised.

 

"Text me tonight so I know you're alive," Harry requested.

 

Louis nodded with a secret smile.

 

"Okay then. If it's not too soon..."

 

Harry shook his head no, eyeing Louis' lips. Louis leaned up to kiss his cheek.

 

"Look after yourself now," he instructed.

 

Harry dimpled and turned for the stairs, thudding down them slowly until Louis couldn't hear his boots on the lino anymore.

 

//

 

Harry was sick.

 

Not the mild sick he had been when he met Louis a few days ago but a really awful sick that he didn't want anyone to see him being, especially not Louis.

 

"I'm really sorry Louis," he called him at lunchtime on Friday with a sad tilt to his lips.

 

He'd been looking forward to their date so much he couldn't help feeling that by cancelling, he was giving up his chance to date Louis ever again.

 

"I gave you my flu," Louis lamented. "I told you not to come near me."

 

"Not sure you can get flu while you've got another virus, Louis," Harry teased lowly.

 

He didn't feel in much of a teasing mood. His lips felt heavy and sad. His skin ached.

 

"Okay, what should I bring?" Louis asked instead.

 

Harry snorted.

 

"You don't need to come over. I look terrible. We can just meet up when I'm better and do something fun."

 

"Harold," Louis said in a way which was already an instant guarantee to make him smile. "We've already discussed your looks. And I can bet my life savings that you don't look terrible..."

 

"Please, Louis," he murmured softly. "I just want to be able to puke my guts up without you having to see it."

 

Louis reluctantly agreed.

 

"I'll call you later," he added quickly, almost pointedly. "Just in case you need anything."

 

"Alright," Harry conceded with a thumping heart as he signed off.

 

//

 

"Watching you puke is better than watching my flatmate snog his girlfriend," Louis greeted as Harry grumpily threw open his door after a continuous, incessant buzzing of the door bell.

 

Harry frowned.

 

"You're much prettier," Louis added with his best innocent smile.

 

He was carrying a bag of groceries which had a small bouquet tucked in the top.

 

"Sweet Williams for you," he grinned. "For being sweet."

 

Harry narrowed his eyes.

 

"Is all this charm meant to convince me to let you in?" He wondered.

 

Louis tilted his head and for the first time since opening the door, he looked uncertain.

 

"Yeah," he admitted softly.  "Is it working?" He tagged on with a hopeful lift of his brows.

 

Harry lifted a hand to clutch his head, checking he had in fact pulled on a beanie. He happened to be in striped sweat pants with a grey hoodie instead of his skinnies and a jumper but Louis didn't seem like he minded.

 

"I guess so," he stepped away from the door for Louis to pass.

 

Louis slid sideways against the wall to fit, pausing before he made it all the way through the gap.

 

"Don't forget to take your flowers, Harold..."

 

Harry lifted the blooms out of the top of the bag and sniffed them, unable to smell their scent.

 

"Thank you, Louis," he appreciated as he followed him through to his kitchen. "What else did you bring?"

 

"Curry," Louis lifted out the ready meal. "Rice...naan bread, a bit of yoghurt in case the curry was too hot and...:

 

He drew the word out, shielding the last item in the bag slightly.

 

Harry leaned over the counter to see, eyes flicking to Louis' when he didn't reveal the surprise. He was smiling in a way that made Harry think he was the cause of it but it was such a beautiful smile that the idea made his tummy clench.

 

"C'mon Lou," Harry prompted, inadvertently shortening his name.

 

Louis smirked, lifting out the box.

 

"Cheesecake."

 

Harry grinned, hoping he'd stomach the food without barfing again. It wasn't the best idea to eat something spicy but Louis had tried so hard to bring their date night home he didn't have the heart to say no to any of it.

 

"Can we start with dessert?" He asked instead.

 

Louis pursed his lips; blue eyes alight with interest as they met his again.

 

"Oh? Are you that kind of boy, Harold?"

 

Harry laughed, throat tangling with mucus and sputtering out a cough. His lungs wheezed noisily at the effort, quietly rattling afterwards.

 

Louis came around the island and gave him a concerned look.

 

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

 

Harry shook his head, dipping into his hoodie pocket for his inhaler which he held up, pressing it to his lips with a suck before he expressed it; repeating the process twice.

 

"Asthma," he said quietly after with a rueful twist of his lips.

 

Louis' fingers glanced over his wrist.

 

"Such a delicate baby aren't you?" He mused softly.

 

Harry nodded, sliding his eyes away.

 

"And you take care of everyone else," Louis noted. "But who takes care of you?"

 

"I'm fine," he insisted with a clearing of his throat that resulted in spitting phlegm into a handkerchief.

 

Louis arched a brow, turning him to guide him toward the sofa.

 

"You can go and be fine sitting down while I put dinner in the microwave," he narrated as he deposited Harry carefully into the seat. "I'll bring you a hot lemon and honey drink." He promised.

 

//

 

Harry was asleep within the few minutes it took to boil the kettle, cut a slice of lemon and squeeze some honey into a mug.

 

Louis helped him lean sideways and lifted his legs onto the seat, fetching a blanket from the bed to bring through and cover him.

 

He lay the blanket over him and switched off the  microwave.

 

//

 

He woke up around midnight, long legs curled between a pair of thighs, his toes brushing against denim.

 

"Louis?" He lifted his head, his voice nasal thanks to being unable to breathe.

 

Louis' hands were curved around his shins gently, fingers squeezing when Harry called his name.

 

"Go back to sleep, Harry," Louis muttered.

 

He smiled, liking the way his name sounded in Louis' voice. He twisted onto his back, resting his feet against Louis' thigh with a little squeeze of his toes.

 

"You stayed," he observed softly, reaching for tissues to blow his nose.

 

Louis yawned in that open-mouthed way he had at the store, not bothered to cover his wide open mouth with his hand. The way the yawn finished with a little slurp and shudder had Harry wanting Louis to stay, always.

 

"Didn't want you to think I was a shit bag like your ex," Louis mumbled, rolling his head towards Harry and opening his eyes after a few seconds of clinging to unconsciousness.

 

"Yeah, well," Harry's tummy twisted. "Less said about him the better."

 

Louis' hand glided over his leg gently.

 

"Very true."

 

"Thank you for taking care of me," Harry murmured.

 

Louis smiled sleepily.

 

"Not sure this can be classed as taking care of you, but I'm hoping it wins me a ticket to take care of you another time in the future," he quipped.

 

Harry smiled slowly at him.

 

"I think you've won a good few tickets, yeah..."

 

Louis smiled back, reaching out to touch his soft-looking beanie.

 

"You still tired?" He checked.

 

Harry shook his head, hands pooled in his lap.

 

"TV?" Louis suggested. "I can go get the cheesecake..."

 

Harry's dimples answered for him.

 

//

 

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Harry leaned on the doorjamb, teetering a bit as he reached to curl his fingers around Louis' jacket lapel to tug him closer.

 

Louis swallowed, stepping forward to look up into his eyes.

 

"I'll be fine."

 

Harry pouted.

 

"You could just stay for a bit longer..."

 

"I promised I'd take my sister shopping," Louis bit his lip. "But if I hadn't, believe me, I'd still be on that sofa with you."

 

"Or in my bed," Harry added in a deep voice, the suggestion not lost on Louis whose groin tingled excitedly.

 

He reached up to finger the hair poking out of Harry's beanie; messy strands soft against his fingertips. Unconsciously he guided Harry down as he lifted onto his toes; pausing to nuzzle his cheek.

 

"Is this-"

 

He didn't get to ask, Harry closed the distance; mere centimetres, and licked his lips a second before he slid their lips together; hesitant and yet eager at the same time somehow. The way he pressed forward and his hand tightened into his lapel to hold him there had Louis shuffling closer to slide his other arm around his waist.

 

The kiss came alive at that, Harry cupping his face and leaning off the doorjamb to fit himself into Louis' arms better. The motion unsteadied him and he staggered a bit, Louis tightening his arms with a grin as the kiss broke, Harry's lips sliding off his cheek. They settled into an awkward hug, Harry hiding by pressing his cheek to Louis' hair.

 

"Guess I'm not quite well enough for that yet," he lamented slowly.

 

Louis chuckled, soothing a hand over his back.

 

"It's not like we have to rush it," he assured.

 

Harry pulled back.

 

"No?" His gaze flicked over Louis' face questioningly, as though if he let Louis go in this moment he might never see him again.

 

Louis smirked.

 

"Pretty sure we've got our whole lives to work out this kissing stuff."

 

Harry hadn't met anyone before who was willing to be so open about their feelings. He hadn't met anyone who wanted to think about forever with him. He hadn't met anyone with such soulful blue eyes.

 

"I can't wait to start," Harry said.

 

Louis looked to the ground to hide his grin.

 

He really did have to go. If it was anyone but his sister he might have considered bailing on them in favour of backing Harry up into his hallway to kiss him some more; until the noises from his throat weren't from the symptoms of his flu but from the pleasure Louis planned to afford him.

 

He stepped back before the lure of pleasuring Harry became impossible to resist.

 

"Message me," he instructed only, throwing him a wink as Harry blew him a sweet little kiss as he turned away.

           

 


End file.
